


More

by lary



Series: Control [1]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Character Study, Episode Related, M/M, POV Character of Color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lary/pseuds/lary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When House's team takes on the patient of Foreman's former employer, he is forced to reconsider his perspectives to both his work and his relationship with House.</p><p>Foreman's POV on events during the S1 episode 9 DNR.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Do not own them.

 

 

Eric Foreman didn't have a particularly high opinion of Robert Chase.

 

Ever since Foreman had come to work at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, nearly six months ago, he could see that the guy was a rich kid who had gotten everything too easy, just by being born to the right parents. Things, lifestyle, place in college. There was even a hospital rumour that he'd been hired for the fellowship because his father, Dr. Rowan Chase, had made a phone call. To be fair, Foreman doubted that, because House really didn't seem like the type to be impressed by name alone. Still, Chase had everything that Foreman had been forced to work his ass off to achieve, always having to demonstrate not only that he was good enough, but that he was the best, the smartest, and damn well worth of being where he was now.

 

And it wasn't so much the fact that Chase had gotten it all easy, it was that the Australian failed to appreciate it. He didn't make an effort, if honing his talents at ass kissing didn't count. He was simply floating through the fellowship like he had floated through life, with a lack of maturity that Foreman had never been able to afford.

 

That was what irked him the most: Chase didn't try. Because when the guy did use his brain, he was damn perceptive.

 

Foreman had been observing House's behaviour more closely than usual for the past few weeks. He was not letting it show, of course. Around the diagnostician it was almost always best to retain a cool exterior of professional detachment. House would pick up on anything, but with Foreman it was whatever he wanted to show.

 

The other fellows had made an effort to achieve the same, and failed miserably. Cameron was an open book, and House had figured her out first. She had still to realise that it had been that exact point at which House's interest in her had vanished. With Chase it had taken until they had treated the nun for House to get out his most guarded secrets. Unsurprisingly, the diagnostician had then turned his full attention to Foreman.

 

It had been aggravating, but not as much as he'd let House believe. Foreman had made a show about being annoyed at House, demanding to know why House was riding him. Like he hadn't already known. Or, well, he had known the part about the man being an insufferable, obsessive son of a bitch.

 

It was Chase who had clued him in about House having a crush on him.

 

Cameron had taken it as a joke, but once Chase had said it, Foreman had been able to see it, too. He wasn't sure how to take it.

 

A part of him was undeniably interested. House clearly wanted it to seem like he didn't care for his appearance, but he built a deliberately carefree style that Foreman found sexy. Case in point was the casual button down shirt he was wearing today, which matched his eyes in a way that was hardly accidental. Moreover, despite his injury, the older doctor was lean and fit, and he could be damn charming when he wanted to. Not that he used that talent often, and definitely not around Foreman.

 

What really drew Foreman, though, was the confidence and intelligence that combined to make House an amazing diagnostician. Also, with House's position of authority at work, Foreman couldn't help to be intrigued by the possibility of reversing the situation in bed.

 

An equal part of him wondered just what the hell he was thinking, even considering getting involved with House in some way. The man could be aggravating to be around half the time at work, and no doubt he was even more of a jerk to people he was fucking than he was to his colleagues. Another thing that bothered him was the seemingly detached, uncaring manner in which House treated his patients. He obviously wanted to give the impression he didn't give a crap about people, only wanting to solve puzzles, and Foreman was still uncertain of the extent to which that was actually the case.

 

Either way, Foreman hadn't been forced to make a decision. House hadn't made any advances on him, hiding the crush well. Since he'd started to pay attention, the clues had been subtle; or at least what passed as subtle for House, meaning that the diagnostician was only slightly more obsessed with Foreman than he was with his cases. In other words, a few steps away away from flat-out stalking. Still, ever since recognising House's motivations, Foreman had been rather enjoying himself.

 

However, now that they were treating the musician John Henry Giles, it was way more obvious. John Henry had been admitted to PPTH to be treated for pneumonia. His long-term condition of ALS was being treated by Foreman's former employer Dr. Marty Hamilton in LA. Foreman had been given the responsibility for the case, but House was dead set on proving Hamilton wrong with a long shot theory that he'd mistaken the musician's Wegener's for ALS. Foreman didn't doubt for a second that House guessed that there had been more between him and Marty than a simple working relationship. However, he suspected the diagnostician would be acting nearly as possessive even if Hamilton had been simply his ex boss.

 

Foreman rebuffed another one of House's arguments. They were doing a differential in the conference room, and Chase was smirking knowingly as House tried to manoeuvre his way to running the case. If it wasn't for Cameron's serious ailment of wishful thinking, Foreman was certain that even she would have started to suspect the real reasons for House's exceptionally obsessive behaviour.

 

“It's my case,” Foreman reminded his co-workers, as they were about to rise to House's instructions. He could see that House was uncertain himself, not sure like he usually was, and Foreman had no intention of messing with John Henry's treatment if all that House's theory rested on was his need to prove himself over the guy Foreman used to work for.

 

 

**

 

 

 _Damn, I wish House was right and not just marking his territory_ , Foreman thought, as he watched John Henry sign a DNR. It was unusual for patients to opt for a do not resuscitate order, even if they were seriously ill. That was unless they were old, and John Henry was barely House's age.

 

Foreman understood the reasons for the musician's insistence only too well. He was already in a wheelchair and his ALS was progressing. The illness was incurable and uncomfortable, late stages resulting to difficulties eating and, finally, a respiratory failure.

 

He was thoughtful as he left the patient room. Even as he walked, Foreman wasn't sure why he made his way towards House's office, but he was surprised to find the diagnostician lying on the floor listening to John Henry's music. House took the headphones off long enough for Foreman to tell him about the DNR. He seemed relatively unconcerned, but he pushed once more for Wegener's treatment.

 

 _Maybe he actually does care beyond the puzzles_ , Foreman found himself thinking. _That would be the first that House lets me see it. Either that, or he's just manipulating me._

 

He didn't let House see his hesitation, but when he left the office, he ordered John Henry to be given an IVIG for Wegener's. If he was honest with himself, House's theory seemed as unlikely as it had before, compared to the ALS that Marty had diagnosed two years back. But Foreman remembered the resigned look on John Henry's face when he signed the DNR. He could see it wasn't just the illness that made him sign.

 

It was that John Henry Giles had no more will to live.

 

 

**

 

 

From there things only got worse.

 

House was fixated over John Henry's case, and it went way beyond his usual intensity. House always fought for his patients, but he'd never assaulted one, forcing them on life support against their will. Foreman wasn't sure if he was more angry with House for doing it, or with himself for letting the man manipulate him into treating for Wegener's in the first place, a treatment that had led to John Henry crashing. House had saved John Henry's life, but the DNR expressly prohibited that, and now House had a restraining order.

 

It had only been a few weeks back that Foreman had argued to Chase and Cameron that all three of them were suffering from Stockholm Syndrome when it came to House, and now he'd proved his own point so damn humiliatingly. There was no way Foreman would've done something like this before, when he was still working with Marty. And now his former employer was flying over from California to pull the plug, something he wouldn't have to do if it wasn't for the worst mistake Foreman had made in his whole career.

 

“You gotta let me run some tests.” House's voice from behind him startled him, making him spin around.

 

“You're not serious,” Foreman growled. He stared at House disbelievingly, feeling like he wanted to take a punch at the man. Hitting his boss, another thing Foreman had certainly never considered doing before.

 

“It's not ALS,” House said, as if they had nothing else to discuss besides the puzzle.

 

“House, you have a restraining order for a reason. He's not your patient. Leave the man alone.”

 

“You need to give him cytoxan, now,” House argued calmly, his blue eyes piercing Foreman intensely, seeking to convince. “If Dr. Hamilton pulls the plug and he's got Wegener's, he's dead.”

 

Foreman felt a numb coldness deep in his bones, he knew it was true. If they were wrong about ALS and it was Wegener's, John Henry would die instantly when the tube was taken out. And even if they were right, it was still a distinct possibility. Foreman was also well aware that it was his fault that the death might come this soon: without the IVIG John Henry wouldn't have crashed.

 

All of which House knew, of course, and was now using, trying to guilt him into another course of unnecessary treatment. Foreman felt anger bubbling under, but he forced his voice to remain steady, steeling himself against the manipulation.

 

“You need to back off,” Foreman warned. “I'm not taking any more advice from you. Listening to you put both me and the patient in this position in the first place.”

 

House responded angrily, seeming alarmed by his calmness. “Goddamn, Foreman, this is more important than your fear of looking bad in front of your ex-boss-slash-boyfriend!”

 

“That's what this is about? You're jealous of Marty?” Foreman demanded.

 

House looked stricken, glancing away quickly. When his eyes met Foreman's again, there was an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his expression, and in his voice. “No, that's not all this is about,” House said.

 

Foreman didn't miss the fact that he didn't exactly deny the jealousy. He remained quiet.

 

“He doesn't have to die,” House said, surprising Foreman. He no longer had any doubt that House cared, and wouldn't buy into that façade again with patients. He felt a tiny portion of his anger dissolving, but he had no intention of making the same mistake twice.

 

“That's what John Henry wants. Unlike you, I'm capable of respecting the patient's decisions,” Foreman said.

 

“Of course he wants to die, he thinks he's got ALS,” House argued, frustrated.

 

“Yeah,” Foreman admitted. “And the only thing that sucks worse than dying is if you keep treating him as your personal guinea pig for whatever you hope he might have instead.”

 

He left House standing in the hallway, walking away from him and towards the patient room. Foreman felt trepidation rise in his chest as he saw John Henry lie in the bed, a machine helping him breath. It was nowhere near enough, but the least he could do for the man was to offer his apologies for his part in this mess.

 

 

**

 

 

Foreman looked over the table to Marty Hamilton, who was smiling at him warmly. He felt himself returning the smile.

 

Foreman had felt relieved for the first time since the mistake with John Henry when he'd entered House's office and seen Marty. Unbelievably, it didn't look like the man was angry at him. It hadn't been difficult to apologise for the screw up, and Marty had taken it graciously, a reaction Foreman could never hope from House. He'd ignored House's mocking and he and Marty had left the office to pull the plug.

 

It had been an even bigger relief when removing the breathing tube hadn't resulted in John Henry's death. Foreman was silently grateful for having refused to treat for Wegener's the second time around, for it was even more certain now that the patient had ALS.

 

John Henry was relatively stable again, and Marty had taken him to an elegant restaurant for a lunch. Spending time with Marty was reminding Foreman of dating him. There had been mutual interest between them, but Foreman had known he was going to leave after the residency and move to wherever was best for his career, and it had never progressed into a relationship.

 

He was shocked out of his thoughts by Marty's suggestion.

 

“You'd really hire me as your partner after this thing with John Henry?” Foreman asked disbelievingly.

 

“Anybody can make a mistake, Eric. I know how good you are,” Marty smiled.

 

Foreman reached for his water. It was both warming and somehow discomforting, the trust he was receiving from Marty, even after his screw up. _Then again, working for House will make anybody feel strange about compliments_.

 

“Thank you,” Foreman said. “I don't think I could let it go that easily if it had been my patient.”

 

“To be fair, it was more Greg's fault than yours, as you're his employee and he's the one who pushed for Wegener's.”

 

“It's strange to hear anybody refer to House as Greg,” Foreman laughed.

 

“You don't? Then you're not enjoying working with him in quite the same way you enjoyed working with me?” Marty asked lightly.

 

“Why would you think I was?” Foreman asked instead of answering. He doubted he'd be calling House Greg even if he had slept with the man, but right now he was more interested in where Marty was going with this than he was in thinking about House.

 

“Other than the fact that he's acting like a jealous boyfriend?”

 

Foreman hid his amusement, because if House was doing so, then he certainly wasn't the only one. “Well, he's not my boyfriend, just a boss with some serious boundary issues,” he said out loud.

 

“Good to know,” Marty said flirtatiously.

 

“So. Where are you staying?”

 

“I've got a room at Marriott.”

 

“You want to have dinner later?” Foreman asked. Marty's smile widened, and that was answer enough.

 

 

**

 

 

John Henry's condition had taken a turn for worse after a brief spell of improvement. House sent Cameron and Chase to do a new MRI and turned to Foreman.

 

“We should probably talk, huh?”

 

Foreman followed House into his office and sat down, watching House pace back and forth behind his desk. “I checked him out. He’s a great doctor. You think he’s better than I am?” House asked, surprisingly directly.

  
  
“This about your ego?” Foreman deflected.

  
  
“Answer the question,” House commanded, calmly. “It’s not going to change my opinion of myself. Might affect my opinion of you, but that shouldn’t affect your opinion of yourself. Now I’m getting confused,” House said with mock-puzzlement that made Foreman grind his teeth in frustration.

 

House went on, seriously again. “If you think he’s a better doctor than I am, then you should take the job. Otherwise, you should get him to buy you two or three more _nostalgic lunches_ and politely decline.”

  
  
“It’s that simple?” Foreman demanded, feeling irrationally angry. He was seriously considering Marty's offer, and he couldn't help but feel that House was trying to manipulate him once again. “I should just ignore the mockery and abuse?”

  
  
“Oh, how do I abuse you?”

  
  
Foreman barely resisted the urge to laugh. House had done nothing but push him for the past few weeks. “How do you not?” Foreman asked. “If I make a mistake--”

  
  
House cut him off. “I hold you accountable, so what?”

  
  
“Dr. Hamilton forgives. He’s capable of moving on.”

  
  
“That is not what he does!” House exploded.

 

Foreman frowned in confusion. House couldn't be this oblivious. “I screwed up his case, he told me--”

  
House interrupted him again. “He never said you were forgiven. I was there, he said it wasn’t your fault.”

  
  
“So?”

  
  
“So, it was,” House said. Foreman felt like he was punched in the gut, even as House's blue eyes pierced him, holding him still. “You took a chance, you did something great. You were wrong, but it was still great. You should feel great that it was great. You should feel like crap that it was wrong.”

 

Foreman glanced away, setting his jaw. House was right, and he knew it. He wasn't sure if what he'd done was great, exactly, but John Henry's crashing had definitely been his fault. He didn't deserve the easy forgiveness, not when he'd almost caused a man to lose his life.

 

House could see he was getting to Foreman. “That’s the difference between him and me. He thinks you do your job, and what will be, will be. I think that what I do and what you do matters,” House said, gesturing between them.

 

Foreman remained silent. House's expression was open again, his defences and his usual bullshit gone. It was like he knew that he wouldn't get to Foreman with manipulation, and it was forcing him to uncomfortable honesty. House's voice was lower, no longer frustrated or angry. “He sleeps better at night. He shouldn’t.”

 

Foreman looked at House. His thoughts were a mess, and he wasn't sure how to react.

 

The discussion took a lower priority when Cameron and Chase barged in, with the new test results for John Henry.

 

Foreman stared at the scans in disbelief, as the other doctors launched into a differential. The MRI now showed an arteriovenous malformation, a growth on John Henry's spine which had never been noticed before. He had no idea how Marty could have missed it for two years, no idea how they could have missed it earlier.

 

House was piecing it together, fitting the the facts like puzzle pieces. His brain perceived connections in a way that Foreman could only marvel at, because when it fell into place, it suddenly made perfect sense. The growth had caused swelling, which had obscured it from the MRI scans until they'd treated with steroids.

 

House turned to look at him, blue eyes blazing passion and enthusiasm about the discovery, and Foreman felt himself elated by the shared feeling. It was near disbelieving joy and contentment, and in that moment it was connecting them deeper than anything else. He couldn't help but look at House admiringly. Unbelievable. It wasn't ALS. All John Henry Giles needed was a surgery and he'd be able to walk away from the hospital himself.

 

It was disorienting. Foreman felt like he was rooted into place, watching helplessly while the world around him rearranged itself, only to find that the new space was more familiar and somehow more right than the old. He barely registered it when House ordered them to prep John Henry for surgery. Chase and Cameron hasted to comply, and House moved to sit in the chair behind his office table.

 

Foreman felt like he was taking his first steps, steady and satisfying, observing how his new surroundings changed his perspective irrevocably. He thought of Marty's job offer, still tempting for all the same reasons it had been before. It was a better position, and being with Marty was pleasant in a familiar way that could go somewhere. But he had suddenly a clear view of all the ways in which he would be settling. And with that, it simply stopped being an option anymore.

 

Foreman wanted more – he had to see it through with House. Even if what House was offering was more ambiguous. Even if Foreman didn't know what the hell he wanted from the man. Even if it was uncertain what House was willing to offer beyond the working relationship they had now, if anything. Even if Foreman knew that there were a million ways the man would push his boundaries, and as many ways for them to hurt each other. Still, now that it had come together, Foreman knew it was what he wanted.

 

“What?” House snapped as Foreman stood there, close, studying his features.

 

“I hate it when you're right.”

 

House looked at him, and Foreman could see the brief flicker of surprise on his face, before he smirked. “I get that a lot.”

 

Foreman felt like kissing him, in that moment.

 

He stepped a little closer, standing in front of House, a soft excitement warming his skin. House seemed to be barely breathing, his eyes fixed on Foreman's, with an expression that was simultaneously open and guarded. It was taking his own breath away, standing there looking into House's eyes, feeling the connection there, running between them like an electric flow, undeniable as if it was something tangible.

 

Instead of kissing him, Foreman reached his fingers, running them down House's stubbled chin.

 

He saw the other man take an uneven breath. House wasn't responding but neither was he shutting him off. There was still none of his usual bravado, and Foreman knew he was pushing the man out of his comfort zone. He didn't want to push too far. Intuitively, Foreman knew that House's limits would come a lot sooner than his own, in some ways.

 

Foreman let his fingers linger on House's skin for one more heartbeat, before drawing his hand away. “Got to check on the patient,” he said, with a small smile. He turned away and left without looking back.

 

 


End file.
